Chapter 8: The Law is an Ass

July 4th, 2002. Chelmsford Crown Court.

I took especial care dressing on the morning of Thursday, the 4th July.

V-P emphasised I should project myself as a respectable pillar of society when appearing before the court ... first impressions are the more important, and the twelve pairs of eyes of a jury would take in my bearing, and then make decisions regarding my character from how I stood, spoke, and dressed.

I wore one of my bespoke suits from Reading, matched with an Austin Reed made to measure shirt; and acting on V-P's orders I wore a Greenjacket regimental tie, with the ribbon which denoted a recipient of the Military Medal in the buttonhole of my suit. I thought the last item rather ostentatious, but V-P knew the game better than I did. My black shoes gleamed with a spit and polish mirror finish.

I arrived early at the court, and then paced nervously up and down as the time drew nearer for the trial to begin. Ten minutes before ten o'clock V-P breezed in with his retinue, and made swift introductions. He was accompanied by his pupil barrister Charlotte, who was a knockout, and, before handing me over to the usher to take me up into the dock, he gave me a quick run-down on the judge who would be presiding at the trial.

"He is a high ranking judge, Lord Justice Parkinson no less, who is a stickler for protocol, and is always addressed as 'My Lord'." V-P suggested I remained standing throughout the trial; Parkinson liked to be able to see the accused clearly at all times, and standing up straight and true, rather than sitting slumped in a chair, lends a person gravitas.

I was standing ramrod straight in the dock as Lord Justice Parkinson, and all the panoply of the majesty of the law and the Queen's justice, assembled inside the court room. Glancing swiftly about me I spotted Alfie, Maggie and several regulars from the Crown in the public gallery. I gave them a slight wave, but didn't want to focus attention on them.

First to rise to his feet was the CPS man, Blackburn, the prosecuting counsel, who was not a great deal different in looks, speech, and mannerisms from V-P.

I noticed a tasty looking female sitting next to Blackburn, who I assumed to be Georgina. She had come-to-bed eyes, with a mouth designed for gobbling, and wore one of those lawyer's wigs, which appear stupid when stuck on top of a bloke's head, but sexy as fuck on a woman's. Georgina was certainly worth plucking.

Blackburn gave an account of the events in the White Swan which was so different from what had actually happened I wondered if I had mistakenly appeared in the wrong courtroom and case. According to the prosecution, I 'attacked Hodge hell bent on revenge, and crippled a man for life. It had been premeditated and vicious attack, and the perpetrator, the accused man in the dock' ... he pointed towards me as if no one in the court knew where the accused stood, what a tosser... 'deserves to be put behind bars for a very long time.'

He called witness from the pub, paramedics, and the police. Sharon gave a damning account of my actions, claiming I assaulted Hodge like 'a mad animal, kicking and stamping and hitting him unmercifully.'

I was amazed by her evidence; I had thought she fancied me, and could only assume she had been intimidated by Hodge's associates to ensure I got banged up in prison.

V-P cross-examined all the witnesses swiftly, and by the end of the morning it became clear to the jury Hodge had attacked me and I had defended myself, a fact which even Hancock corroborated. Sharon was almost charged with perjury as she persistently gave an account wildly differing from the rest of the witnesses.

The question of how much force could be used to defend oneself was floated by the prosecution, but V-P held a riposte ready in his locker should Blackburn force the issue. We adjourned for lunch, and the legal eagles for rumpty pumpty with their students no doubt, at 1230 hours.

V-P came and spoke to me while I ate dinner in my cell ... he must have only managed a quick jump with Charlotte ... and informed me the next prosecution witness would be Jenny Walsh. I crossed my fingers hoping the deal stuck between V-P and her lawyers was watertight, and would help my case.

Jenny Walsh entered the witness box straight after lunch, and made an instant impression. She was dressed demurely in a just-above-the knee-length grey pleated skirt, white knee length socks, black, patent leather shoes, with straps across the foot and around her ankle, a white blouse and a Navy blue blazer, the perfect picture of a virginal school girl. Her erect nipples, clearly shown straining against the blouse, and her sexy pout, belied that image.

Every man in court probably produced a hard-on when first seeing her, and imagined getting into her knickers. I certainly did, as in my mind's eye I saw Priscilla the Prick Teasing School Girl as portrayed by Philippa Goddard. Ostensibly, Jenny was a witness for the prosecution, but it didn't turn out quite as Blackburn expected.

He rose from his seat, smoothed back his pomaded black hair and leered at her. "Now, my dear, please tell the court, in your own words, the events at the White Swan public house, during the evening of June the twelfth." It was probably a mistake to ask her to tell it in her own words as Jenny was a street bred East Londoner, with accent and vocabulary to match.

"Well," she started, "we gits to the car park ahbaht seven an' Marty wants a quick jump before we goes in the boozer but I was on the blob so I sez I'll give' im a blow job but he gits a right strop on coz he luvs 'is nooky so when we sits down in the pub I buys 'im a beer then sez I'll give 'im an 'and shandy under the table but 'e kicks that into touch coz 'e still 'as a cob on an' when this geezer goes past Marty calls 'im a little dick an' the geezer sez well at least I don't use it to shag jail bait an' Marty goes apeshit an' grabs a bottle and goes to bottle 'im but the geezer kicks 'im in the bollocks an' Marty falls down like a sack of shit an' rolls around the floor screaming like 'is balls ' ad been cut orf an' the geezer falls over 'im an' then the Old Bill come in mob 'anded!"

There was a stunned silence as Jenny finished giving her 'evidence'. She gazed coquettishly up at Lord Justice Parkinson, a slight, but knowing, smile on her face. In contrast Blackburn appeared poleaxed; his face a picture of amazement and disbelief. Parkinson's jaw hung open, and he stared at Jenny as if she had just transported down from the planet Zog.

The laughter started at the back of the court, and gradually swelled and spread, until everyone, barring Blackburn and Lord Parkinson, were bellowing with laughter. Jenny beamed out at the court, a look of triumph and jubilation on her face; this was her 15 minutes of fame, and she obviously enjoyed every last second of it.